


The Wolf with the Red Roses

by MercurySkies



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Biting, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Fear Play, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Insecurity, M/M, Marking, Possessive Sex, Possessiveness, Romance, Rough Sex, Scratching, Shame, Smut, Supernatural Shane, Teeth, Werewolf Shane Madej, fear kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:25:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurySkies/pseuds/MercurySkies
Summary: On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?





	The Wolf with the Red Roses

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the intro to You Took the Words Right Outta my Mouth by Meatloaf, because I'm _like that_ and it's what he would want. It's definitely not what he would want I think there's few artists that would like their songs to inspire gay porn of two real human internet personalities but there's gotta be some, I know they're out there.
> 
> **Warnings:** Brief description of an armed mugging and no one is killed just maimed (to avoid skip first 3 paragraphs), brief blood mention but no additional serious injury or blood drawing, unprotected sex, there is guilt and shame surrounding the rough sex but it is completely consensual and it's discussed later.

 

_On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?_

 

The poet in Ryan says that the eyes that stare at him through the darkness are gold, they blink slow, steady but stern. There is a wariness to them but curiosity, amusement, is still ever present. There is a poor schmuck bleeding out on the asphalt, gun a few feet from his outstretched hand and with Ryan’s wallet and phone still in the other. It’s jaws drip with red molasses, something sweet about the tang of blood mixing with the sharp scent of booze and sweat.

Ryan can’t be sure he’s seeing this, they’d had too much to drink, spent too long in the dark. There was supposed to be a fumble beneath the street lights, before they stumble home to Ryan’s apartment and fumble some more, laughing into each other’s mouths. Instead the guy had just slipped out from behind a dumpster. Ryan was ready to clumsily throw him his stuff and run. Then he’d pulled a gun and Shane - he’d only blinked, he could’ve _sworn_...

Ryan feels the panic flooding his body, crawling it’s way up his throat like bile. He shakes so hard his entire body aches with it but he doesn’t look away from those inquisitive eyes. A feral rumble emanates from it like rolling thunder.

“P-please.” Ryan begs, head fuzzy with remnants of alcohol and adrenaline, unsure if he's begging for his life or for the thought scratching at the back of his mind not to be true. The wolf makes no move to attack, but it steps forward, muzzle close to the ground and before Ryan can think much about it, he runs. He turns and runs as fast as his leaden legs can carry him.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches his apartment. He bolts inside and slams the door shut. He tries to calm down but just ends up pacing his apartment. He drinks some water, regretting those last two beers and slides down his closed refrigerator door to slump on the cold kitchen floor. His skin is clammy and cold and the shaking hasn’t abated. Time slips away until frantic pounding at his front door startles him to his feet. He moves to answer it thinking it’s the police, thinking they’ve already found him, want him to explain why there’s a dude with a bite taken out of his throat, lying behind a dumpster.

When he swings the door open he yelps. Shane stands in front of him eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched. His clothes are dirty and torn and a big, pale hand clutches desperately at his stomach. There is still wet blood, streaked across his cheeks, sticking to his jaw and clinging to his throat. The sight in front of him confirms what his traitorous mind has been screaming and he wants to slam the door shut again. Shane’s breath leaves him ragged and uneven and he twitches as if in pain. He starts to speak, whispering, his mouth moving as little as possible.

“I can’t- I can’t hear you.” Ryan whimpers, his eyes suddenly stinging, fingernails digging into the wood of the doorframe. Shane winces. Speaks a little louder and with great reluctance.

“Please let me in.” He asks and his voice is unearthly, deep and tinged with that same rumbling growl. “I’m sorry. Let me in please.” It’s almost as if he’s mumbling, and it’s only when Ryan catches a glimpse of sharp teeth that he realises why. The wolf is lingering and Shane is trying desperately to control it, to not scare him. “Mainly because I’m bleeding,” he adds, “but also because I don’t wanna get arrested.”

It’s obviously a joke but the abnormal depth to his voice makes it sound sinister. Ryan steps aside regardless, flinches back as Shane shuffles past, his eyes a piercing gold. He hunches, tries to keep himself small but Ryan can’t help but keep his distance. Everything he thought he had known about Shane has been altered in an instant. A gentle giant now a ruthless beast.

He follows him warily to the bathroom. He tries not to let his eyes linger as Shane gingerly pulls off his shirt, dropping it to the floor with a grunt. His back is a strong, smooth expanse, shifting with lean muscle and Ryan can’t imagine it twisting into the hackles of a wolf, covered in thick, brown fur. He turns on the faucet, his blood covered hands shaking so badly he barely manages it at first. He glances up and catches sight of himself in the mirror. Ryan watches him study himself in horror, a pained whine leaving him unbidden and Ryan’s stomach sinks. There is something so lost, so helpless about him that tugs at his heart.

Shane starts scrubbing futilely at his hands, the pink water splashing onto the white tiled floor. He approaches slowly, heart beating so fast he can taste it. He slowly places his hands on Shane’s own, pulling them away from the bloodied water. They still shake in his grasp and Shane’s entire body is stiff, preparing to run. He can still hear that low rumble, like a warning emanating from deep in Shane’s chest.

“Don’t, I don’t-” Shane starts, voice wavering with fear despite its unnatural edge.

Ryan has never seen anyone so scared and so dangerous at the same time. He says nothing. Simply sits Shane on the edge of his tub and turns to the bathroom cabinet, dragging from the top shelf an old first aid kit. He cleans the wound, now little more than a deep scratch. Ryan hadn’t noticed the gun go off, let alone that a bullet had very nearly lodged itself into Shane’s abdomen. Shane shakes the entire time. Clearly in less pain but thrumming with fear, teetering on the edge of something.

“I don’t know how it happened.” He starts to explain, when his skin is finally free of blood and he stalks about Ryan’s apartment as he cowers on his couch, waiting for the switch to flick. “Fuck, I’ve been mugged before but I didn’t turn then.” his words are tinged with fear. If there's one thing that Ryan knows Shane holds close it’s control. The reason he's always been so afraid of someone injecting him with heroin is the lack of autonomy, of having his control ripped away, susceptible to addiction, to impulse, to craving.

His fear is evident in the way his golden eyes dart around the room as if he's searching for the answers in the unreadable air. He stops suddenly, piercing eyes pinning Ryan in place. “But you weren’t there then.” He says and his voice sounds like earth and asphalt, deep and churned with grit. “I couldn’t let him hurt you, I couldn’t let him steal from you and threaten you. No wonder I tried to rip his throat out.” Ryan laughs loud and hysterical.

“Alright my hellish protector, just take me to dinner next time.” Ryan is pretty sure he’s lost his mind. He’s listened to his best friend joke about tearing out a man’s throat for him and he’d laughed, and now he was following it up with his own quip. But Ryan has never been sane and the possessive timbre of Shane’s words elicit excitement alongside the ever present fear. There is danger in the look in Shane's eyes but it's still Shane.

Shane lets out a surprised sound, that sounds more like the startled yelp of a kicked puppy than the sinister snarl of Cerberus.

“Is that on the table? I thought you wanted this to just be a friends who fuck thing.” Shane makes his way to him, sinking to his knees on the floor in front of where Ryan sits curled up on the couch. His movements, are strangely smooth and graceful, eyes blinking slowly with a gaze that never wavers.

“The correct term is friends with benefits.” Ryan swallows, eyes flicking to Shane’s mouth where the barest hint of sharp canines lies hidden behind blood reddened lips.

“I prefer friends who fuck, it’s more alliterative.” Shane mumbles, leaning closer and even on his knees he still seems to loom over Ryan. Shane’s nose twitches.

“I can’t believe my friend who fucks, and me specifically I might add, is a literal monster with a penchant for specific literary devices.”

“I’m not a monster.” Shane pouts although it sounds as if he doesn't quite believe his own words. Ryan winces, suspecting the term is an unwelcome one. “I _do_ have a monster dong.”

“Don’t ever say the word dong again.” Ryan laughs.

Shane just stares. He’s so close now and Ryan is paralysed, caught between reaching out and wanting to run.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” He says and Ryan chokes on a whimper, body full of a heady mixture of fear and lust. Shane laughs, low and almost mocking. “Wow that fear kink of yours really has a lot of mileage huh?”

 

_Will he offer me his mouth?_

 

He smiles, a slow, salacious smirk revealing a reddened mouth and sharp incisors, the kind that could tear through flesh like it were butter if he so desired. Is that what he wanted? To tear him apart?

Shane tilts Ryan’s chin upward with delicate fingertips and kisses him, hungrily, ravenous.

 

_Yes_

 

The kiss is bruising, insistent and rough, the barest hint of teeth nipping at his bottom lip makes him whine. The grin on Shane’s face when he pulls away is predatory. He still shakes, overwhelmed, yellow eyes wide as they skitter across Ryan’s body, lingering on the prominent bulge in his jeans.

“Maybe this isn't a good idea. I'm - well I'm me.” He gestures to himself, the pointed ears and the golden eyes and the sharp, glorious teeth.

“You're you. I trust you.” Ryan pants as Shane noses at his jaw.

 

_Will he offer me his teeth?_

 

“You shouldn't.” His voice rumbles against his throat, the barest hint of teeth making Ryan moan. He sinks his fingers into Shane's hair, pressing him closer, thrills in the vibration of his growl against his skin.

 

_Yes_

 

“You wouldn't hurt me.” He gasps as Shane's hands slide up his thighs, pressing them open so he can make a home for himself between them.

 

_Will he offer me his jaws?_

 

Shane places a kiss to his neck, feather light and teasing as he presses upward, Ryan's hard cock pressed hot and aching against his navel.

“I don't bite,” he rumbles teasingly, as if agreeing with Ryan, voice tinged with laughter “unless you want me to.” He sucks a bruise into his throat, teeth digging in just enough to make a point, just enough to make it _hurt_ and Ryan is lost.

 

_Yes_

 

“Please.” He whines as Shane loses himself in marking every inch of him he can reach, biting until the impression of sharp teeth is left behind, red and angry in the answering bruises.

Permission was all Shane had been waiting for. He hauls Ryan up off the couch, hands clinging to his waist, his face buried in his neck as if he can't get enough of the scent of him, heady with lust and the sharp tang of fear. Being cradled in Shane's hold has him squirming, and Ryan leads them haltingly toward his bedroom. This is a dance they’ve done so many times by now but never like this. Shane’s hands scramble beneath his shirt as he pushes him up against the wall in the hallway, the barest scrape of claws dancing down his ribcage has Ryan shuddering, grinding up against the thigh between his legs.

“Fuck.” He groans, and he almost wants to start begging there and then, plead for Shane to dig a little deeper.

“That’s the plan.” Shane says, his voice returned to the timbre of gravel, it scrapes across Ryan’s skin leaving his nerve endings chafed and raw. The softest of touches climbs its way toward his collarbone, undoing the buttons of his shirt on it’s journey. Shane presses a thumb to his bottom lip, the inhuman gold of his iris shrinking as Ryan opens his mouth and allows the tip of the digit inside. He sucks, feels the sharp point of a claw nick his tongue, flooding his mouth with copper. He swallows the taste greedily.

“Bed. Please.” He says, his own voice sounding low and foreign to his ears and Shane follows through eagerly, tugs them down their now well trodden path to Ryan’s bedroom. Shane forces him backward, prowling forward, ravenous as he crashes into him and they collide in a kiss, too hard and with too much teeth as they fall back onto the bed.

 

_Will he offer me his hunger?_

 

“Can I- Can we-” Shane grits out, tugging Ryan’s unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders. Ryan nods frantically.

“I- Let me-” Ryan stutters, batting away Shane’s clawed hands as he tries and fails to open Ryan’s fly. There is the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks from his ineptitude but Ryan fails to be able to focus on it, too preoccupied with getting them both undressed. Once free from the confines of his jeans Shane falls on him, eyes roving every inch of him, mouth tracing every line, biting at every junction he feels the urge to. Ryan arches beneath him, biting his lip against the urge to beg to be touched.

“Never get tired of this. Seeing you. Touching you. Fucking you.”

“Well you’re two for three right now.” Ryan huffs out, flattered but impatient. A devilish smirk curls Shane’s lips, revealing his teeth once again. He trails a clawed finger up Ryan’s cock where it’s curved against his abdomen, it’s feather light but dangerous, the sharp talon much too close. He wraps a large hand around him and squeezes gently, strokes slowly to the tip and back down to the base, dry but oh so good. Ryan groans, hips twitching into Shane’s fist, trying to fuck it, chase the friction.

“Two out of three ain’t bad baby.” He croons, tightening his grip and quickening his pace until Ryan is sweating, fingernails scrabbling against the broad expanse of Shane’s shoulders.

He slows again as he sucks a bruise into his right peck.

“Will you open yourself up for me? Show me how much you want it?” Ryan whines as Shane bites down harder, teeth scratching his sternum. “Will you fuck yourself on your fingers? Show off for me, show me how desperate you are for my cock.” Ryan nods frantically, his hand in Shane’s hair pressing him to his chest and holding him there. Shane slips away, sitting back on his haunches at the end of the bed. Ryan takes that as his cue and fumbles with his night stand, plucking the lube from the depths of the top draw before dropping it onto the sheets.

Shane reaches out to hold Ryan’s ankle, grip so strong it’s sure to bruise. “Hands and knees sweetheart. Wanna see all of you. All for me.” He speaks quietly but his eyes seem glassy and wild, the grit churned sound of his voice making Ryan want to lay flat on his back, throat exposed in submission. But he won’t deny Shane, wouldn’t deny him anything if he asked him, voice dark and firm.

 

_Yes_

 

Shane’s burnished gaze devours his every move as he shifts to his knees, balancing on his forearm as he slicks up his fingers and reaches behind him. Shane presses up close, half draped across his side where he can breathe hotly against his ear and grind his hard cock against his ass cheek.

“Beautiful.” He mumbles, grunts as his slick cock slides against his ass. “Go on.” He urges, a pleading and petulant demand that has Ryan sliding his index finger past his rim, sighing at the sensation of being filled and impatient for more. Shane’s hands touch him everywhere, stroking and scratching, pulling and gripping, desperate to have every inch in his hands. His mouth never leaves Ryan’s skin, biting and sucking and kissing from his shoulders to his thighs. The pain is a dull throb, ticking every jolt of pleasure from the finger working inside him higher.

He starts to rock back on his finger and Shane moves with him, grumbling nonsense into his skin. He’s grateful for Shane’s hands on him, strong and grounding, sure that without them he’d collapse onto the mattress beneath him. The stretch of his second finger is a little tougher to take but he works through it, eager and desperate. Shane paws at him impatiently but manages to tear himself away eventually as Ryan sinks down on a third finger, watching rapturously. Fingertips trail across Ryan’s ass to his hole where they brush across the rim, stretched around three of Ryan’s fingers.

Shane groans, pressing a lingering kiss to his tailbone as his other hand grips Ryan’s ass, claws leaving indents in the muscle.

 

_Again, will he offer me his hunger?_

 

“Wanna fuck you.” He grits out, almost unintelligible with his mouth pressed to the small of his back. A whimper slips from Ryan unbidden and he slips his fingers free, reaching blindly for Shane. He’s there in an instant, draping himself along the full length of his back, cock slotting between his cheeks, the slick head catching on his hole.

 

“ _Yes”_

 

Ryan hisses as Shane pulls away reluctantly. He barely hears the click of the lube or the slick sounds of Shane’s hand on his own cock. The feel of the hot tip pressing insistently at his rim has him dropping to the mattress, face buried in his arms as he begs. “Fuck, please.” He whines and Shane grunts as he moves forward, each inch stretching him until the thought of anything else falls away. Shane groans, a sound feral and wild when he bottoms out but he holds still, struggling so much with the effort that Ryan can feel him shaking. Ryan’s lips part on a whimper as he starts to move, rocking slowly backward but Ryan gives an inch and Shane takes a mile, pulling back shallowly before snapping his hips sharply, grinding deep with every thrust. It punches the air out of him, his staccato gasps and bitten off moans buried under Shane’s grunts. He tries to muffle them into his skin but the sounds escape between his teeth with every bite he litters across Ryan’s shoulders.

He fucks into him fast and shallow, taking and taking until Ryan can barely think of anything but Shane’s cock filling him up, fucking him hard and without mercy. Shane’s hands hold him in a punishing grip, the bones of his hips and collar aching from the pressure but it’s delicious and Ryan can’t get enough, gasping at every point of contact, each new blossoming ache that will serve as a reminder of this, that he’s Shane’s and Shane is his. Shane says as much, growling dark nonsense into the half-light of Ryan’s bedroom as the sordid slap of skin meeting skin is muffled by the thin walls.

“Good,” he grunts, “so good for me.” Trying to curl himself tighter around him, fuck him harder, deeper. There’s no rhythm, no finesse, just chasing the heat, the all consuming want.

Shane hauls him up onto his knees with a hand in his hair and a tight grip on his hip, pulling him back onto his cock, nose buried in the nape of his neck. He goes quiet, voice lost to only grunts and harsh pants of breath and Ryan can feel the tell tale heaviness rapidly coil in his abdomen. He slams himself back onto Shane his eyes shut tight as he reaches down to jerk himself off. He doesn’t even attempt to find a rhythm, blind with pleasure, hand flying fast and slick on his cock, the sound filthy. Ryan’s mouth falls open in a soundless moan, whole body taut and the heat coils fast and tight until it’s spilling from him and he comes, shuddering and gasping and clenching around Shane’s hard cock.

Shane moans, sinks his teeth into his shoulder, and fucks into his spent body ruthlessly. Ryan’s mouth hangs open in a soundless whimper as he continues to move, thrusts sharper and sharper until he’s slamming Ryan back against him, grinding his cock deeper as he starts to come with a whimper.

Ryan slumps forward onto the mattress, uncaring of the come now sandwiched between his stomach and his sheets. Shane pulls out and he hisses at the emptiness, the uncomfortable sensation of cooling come covering his skin. Shane makes an odd sort of cooing sound and suddenly there is a gentle clawed hand, poking at his shoulder, urging him to turn over so he obeys and flops onto his back. Shane hovers above him, yellow eyes soft as they survey the mess he’s made contentedly. He smiles.

Ryan reaches out a hand and pets Shane’s sweaty and messy hair.

“Good boy.” He snickers and Shane laughs like it’s been startled out of him. He leans down and licks a stripe of come from Ryan’s navel and Ryan bats him away, nose wrinkled in disgust as he huffs out a ticklish laugh.

“Gross.”

“You love it.” Shane rumbles, flopping down beside him an arm slung across Ryan’s hips. The gold of his irises is beginning to recede as his eyes droop tiredly. Still, his smile is dopey and sharp as his eyes drift closed. A nap sounds good before they deal with the mess they’ve made. The literal and the figurative mess. He’s sure fucking a werewolf isn’t without its consequences.

He tangles a hand in Shane’s hair, brushing the sweaty strands from his forehead as he drifts into exhaustion.

“God help me I do.”

 

* * *

 

_And will he starve without me?_

 

Shane wakes up first, Ryan curled into his side still sleeping. Weak morning light has filtered in through the gap in the curtains and makes him glow. His skin covered in bites, kiss bitten bruises dusting his skin and Shane feels something like pride coil hotly in his stomach. He lets his fingers trace a few littering Ryan's shoulder, a quiet satisfied rumble of ‘mine’ singing through him. Ryan snuffles in his sleep, an ugly snort that makes Shane smile as he shuffles closer. God Ryan could probably bench press him but he's so much smaller than Shane. He adores the sweet sight of him curled up against him, small, content and precious and safe.

Ryan wakes slowly, stretching out with a groan. When he meets Shane’s eyes he looks confused and Shane attempts a small smile, something twitching and nervous. He feels his heart start to slow to a stop as he watches Ryan slowly take stock of his body. Without a word he throws back the comforter and heads for the bathroom. Shane gasps at the sight of him, the nape of his neck, his shoulders and back, all the way down to his thighs are littered in bites and bruises. Something visceral simmers under the surface, but the possessive snarl stuck in his throat makes him feel sick.

“Ryan...” He breathes out and Ryan stops in the doorway to the bathroom, glancing over his shoulder at him with an unreadable expression. Shane approaches him carefully, like he might a frightened animal but Ryan doesn’t run, just allows him to follow him into his small en-suite.  

“Jesus, Ryan I’m so sorry I-” He says as he watches Ryan inspect himself in the bathroom mirror with glazed eyes, shaking fingertips pressing into bruises and bitemarks, the worst of which adorn his neck, hips and thighs. He forces his eyes away from them.

“I thought it was a dream...” Ryan mumbles and Shane forces himself to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Do you have any ointment or anything?” He asks, stepping back to the doorway, eyes fixed on the ground as Ryan continues to stare at his mottled skin in the mirror. “A bath will help as well. Sorry.” He mumbles again as an afterthought. Silence falls over them, cloying and oppressive and Shane fidgets, unsure of how to salvage this, how to fix it.

“Do you- I-” he starts, stuttering and stumbling. Ryan meets his eye in the mirror, his face flushed. “Do you wanna talk about it or?” He trails off and Ryan simply shakes his head.

“We got carried away big guy.” He says, not unkindly and with a small smile, but to Shane it sounds like an accusation, an unspoken ‘ _you got carried away_ ’. “I think I’m gonna take a bath.” He adds and Shane nods.

“Okay. Okay.” He says, nodding and he backs out of the bathroom closing the door behind himself to give Ryan some privacy.

He dresses quickly, hauling on his dirty and tattered clothes as his stomach churns with nausea and shame and guilt. Once fully dressed he stares at the mess of Ryan’s bed, flashes of the night prior flickering through his mind like a flip book of his basest desires. He calls an Uber and leaves, wondering if he’ll ever be able to look Ryan in the eye again.

The guilt gnaws at him, for losing control, for giving in. But the tang of blood still coating the back of his tongue as Ryan had whimpered into his mouth. He's never felt like that, like he could feel every part of himself, wolf and man one cohesive being, a precarious balance between man and monster. He craves it, craves Ryan.

 

_Yes_

 

* * *

  

Ryan hears his front door open and close from his bathroom. He knew Shane would take his words as an indication to leave but he’d hoped he’d stay, hoped he’d wait for him to recover from the sight suddenly before him. The look on Shane’s face when he saw him was one of horror and guilt and disgust. Ryan regrets convincing him to do this with him, clearly repulsed by the aftermath of indulging Ryan’s fantasies.

Just looking at himself, riddled with marks, from Shane’s mouth and teeth, has his cock twitching in interest. It’d been a thrill, a euphoric mix of pain and fear and pleasure, the knowledge he was placing his trust in someone that could tear him apart but never would. Shane’s desperate clawing at him had made him feel coveted, wanted, needed, as if Shane simply had to have him. It was the biggest boost to his ego he’d ever received to know he had something so dangerous wrapped around him, ready and eager to do anything he begged for, just so he could say he was his.

With Shane it’s always been good. They’re evenly matched, bending and breaking to fit one another perfectly. Shane is the best lay Ryan has ever had full stop, the guy knows what he’s doing and knows _Ryan,_ better than he even knows himself sometimes. They’ve played rough before, and Shane never seemed to have a problem with it, but this has seemingly crossed a line and Ryan feels guilty and sick for having enjoyed it so much.

The fear is still ever present. The reality of what Shane is, what he’s capable of, is terrifying, he’d be insane not to acknowledge that. But he trusts him, he’s still his anchor, someone who has always treated him with tenderness and care, has protected him from both deadly and every day threats. Ryan simply can’t see him as a monster.

As he sinks into a bath to ease the ache in his sated body he can’t help but think the only monster here is him.

 

* * *

 

_And does he love me?_

 

Things return to normal but the affection, the tension that once pulled them together is now nonexistent, propelled away from each other out of fear. They go to work and do Unsolved. At times it’s as if nothing has changed but then Shane seemingly catches himself. His face goes carefully blank and he starts to recede, touches fleeting and smiles small. Ryan doesn’t dare push him, beg for him to touch him, to open up to him, afraid Shane will recoil and drift further away.

Travelling for shoots is harder now, the exhaustion of early mornings and late flights and jet lag no longer tempered by Shane’s head resting on his shoulder on the plane as he dozes fitfully. They no longer sit pressed hip to thigh in the back of the car, squeezed between the team and their equipment. There is no longer the comforting reprieve of Shane’s arms in a shared bed after another harrowing investigation. It all feels cold and draining, the sights and sounds of new places the only draw to the endeavour. It doesn’t help that Ryan keeps choosing locations for supernatural that get frigidly cold, a far cry from California’s relatively balmy winters.

Their current home for the night is an abandoned manor house in the ass crack of nowhere, situated charmingly in the middle of a terrifying forest. Ryan will continue to question his life choices in his pursuit of the truth for as long as they do Unsolved, despite sleeping in these decrepit places being necessary for the show. Shane has been unusually twitchy all day, standing so far away from Ryan at times that the crew has had to beg him to get back into shot.

Ever the professional, Shane's odd behaviour won't show on camera. The fact that each quip comes a little slower, each insult and mocking cry a little less biting, a little quieter, is only noticeable to Ryan. It comes as a relief when they finally settle down for the night, sleeping bags spread out on the dusty floor of the old drawing room. At least in the confines of his zipped up sleeping bag Shane's twitching is kept to a minimum.

They lay facing each other and Ryan swears he catches Shane's eyes flash gold as he smiles softly at him in the half-light.

“So what's the ghoul rating for this place?” He asks, only his eyes and riotous mop of mousy hair visible above the top of his sleeping bag, his voice sleep deep and rumbling. “One being phantom free and ten being filled to the rafters with ghouls.” Ryan let's his laugh echo around the crumbling room and melts as he sees Shane's glinting eyes crinkle at the corners, a tell tale sign that he's smiling.

“About a 6.” He answers and Shane lets out a low whistle. “I do think it's haunted and it creeps me the fuck out but I don't think we're in demon territory. I don't think there's anything here that will hurt me.” His words hold a double meaning, dripping with a sincerity that he can see Shane senses. Shane sighs.

“Ryan...”

“We should talk about it.” Ryan blurts out as Shane rolls to stare up at the flaking ceiling. He doesn't answer. “You asked me if I wanted to talk about it then, well now I do.”

Shane glances over at him, eyes unmistakably gold in the low light.

“Not now.” He grumbles lowly, eyes blinking slowly. He rolls, his back facing Ryan, bringing the conversation to its end. Ryan sighs, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the creeping shadows at the corners of the room, the scrape of winter stripped branches against the dirty window and the feral rumble emanating from Shane's chest.

He wakes what seems moments later to the rhythmic opening and closing of a door about to fall from its hinges. He doesn’t remember when exactly he fell asleep. The first thing he notices is that the room is washed in a white glow, the full moon, unobscured by cloud, shines straight through the drawing room window, weaving easily between the skeletal branches of the trees outside. The second thing he notices is that Shane is not in his sleeping bag. His heart starts to pound sluggishly and he glances around the room to see if he’s simply moved. He tries to keep his heart beat steady as he finds it empty, maybe Shane has just gone to the bathroom.

He grabs his flashlight and shuffles quietly toward the hallway. There’s no working plumbing inside the house so Shane has likely gone outside. He approaches the open front door cautiously, flashlight held in a vice like grip. He catches the wood as the door swings open again and glances down at the stoop. Shane’s clothes sit neatly folded in the doorway, glasses perched on the top. He briefly wonders why the fuck Shane would be wandering around the woods naked at night before it dawns on him that he might not just be naked.

Suddenly Shane’s twitchy behaviour makes sense and he stares at the fringe of the forest, the towering trees tipped with silver under the light of the full moon. He sits down on the rotting porch and pulls the pile of Shane’s clothes into his lap, rubbing the soft fabric of Shane’s shirt between his thumb and forefinger. It’s cold but the night is strangely calm, the oppressive unease of the manor at his back doesn’t touch him here, Shane’s worn flannel beneath his fingertips, as he just sits and waits. He needs to see him, wants to see him.

He doesn’t have to wait long and soon he can see the faintest outline of a large brown wolf emerging from the edge of the forest. It trots toward the house, seemingly nonplussed until it notices Ryan on the porch and freezes before loping forward tentatively. Ryan’s heart pounds at the sight of him and the wolf, Shane, lowers his muzzle to the ground in a move Ryan realises is a sign of deference, an attempt to seem nonthreatening. Ryan smiles.

“Hey big buy.” He says quietly. He stands, placing Shane’s clothes on the porch stairs. He moves to go to him but Shane’s yellow eyes narrow and he backs up, seeming skittish.

“Hey.” Ryan says softly, crouching down at the foot of the stairs. He doesn’t move any closer, just stays there, arm outstretched and waiting, always waiting. Shane eyes him warily, his bright eyes still so human. He’s scared, not of Ryan but of scaring him, of hurting him. “It’s okay Shane. I’m okay, we’re okay.” Shane whines in answer and sniffs, a short derisive sounding snort and he lopes closer, slowly, still watching for Ryan to bolt.

Ryan doesn’t move, his smile growing wider with every step Shane takes toward him until he stands nose to nose with him. He seems a proud wolf, despite the lingering caution his ears spring up when Ryan doesn’t flinch away, his fluffy tail held high. Ryan laughs and Shane plops himself down to sit opposite him.

“Look at you Mister Alpha Wolf.” Ryan teases and Shane seemingly rolls his eyes as he licks his muzzle. Ryan reaches out a tentative hand and carefully pets at the top of his head. The look Shane gives him is unimpressed at best but he doesn’t move away. He leans his head into his hand, briefly licking his palm before closing his eyes contentedly. Ryan feels his heart swell at the sight as Shane lets out a contented huff, his fur coarse and thick beneath his fingertips.

“You’re just an overgrown puppy really.” Ryan huffs out and a low growl rumbles through Shane. He bares his teeth, but it’s Shane and it’s simply a playful gesture, as if to prove he’s no such thing, that he’s the big bad wolf. Ryan’s laugh is raucous and loud and Shane’s eyes watch him intently, nothing but tenderness in his inhuman eyes.

They stay like that for a while. Ryan talks, petting idle fingers through Shane’s fur as he lays by his side. He talks and it’s nice not to be interrupted for once though he learns that Shane can be just as sarcastic as a wolf, his every snort a telltale scoff, every small grumble a laugh. Ryan yawns and Shane nudges at his ankle with his nose, an indication that they should head to bed, try and get some sleep. They head back into the house, Shane loping tall and confident through the decaying hallway. Inside the drawing room he heads straight to Ryan’s sleeping bag, pawing at it pointedly before settling down on it. Ryan takes it as the demand it is: Rest. He falls asleep with his fingers buried in Shane’s fur, encompassed by warmth and the scent of earth and pine.

When Ryan wakes in the morning his nose is pressed to the naked expanse of Shane’s collarbone, swaddled in their two sleeping bags and curled close in Shane’s protective embrace.

 

_Yes_

 

* * *

 

They have one more night before they have to go back to L.A. They spend it wandering the forest, perusing the small town’s only main street and talking, endlessly talking. They talk about that night, blushing and stuttering and shifting to adjust their very interested cocks. It’s awkward and fumbling but the more they talk, the more they listen, the more they want this, undoubtedly. Shane suggests that they take things slow, wait until they’re back in L.A and have gone on a few dates, do things properly.

“When have we ever done anything ‘properly’?” Ryan asks, moving into Shane’s space, thrilling as Shane’s eyes start to shimmer golden, his gaze dropping to Ryan’s mouth. Shane’s protests die in his throat and Ryan straddles him, tilting his head up by the jaw to steal a kiss, tongue brushing along slowly sharpening canines. A low growl slinks up Shane’s throat sending a shiver down Ryan’s spine. He flips them and looks down at Ryan, grin wide, his sharp teeth on unashamed display, mischief in his molten eyes. Ryan shivers, breath hitching, and Shane watches his every move with rapt attention, ravenous and delighted. Ryan tugs impatiently on his hair, excitement and fear and impatience lancing through him as he bucks up, seeking friction. Shane laughs, a deep and guttural sound of delight as he gives in and lowers his hips and mouth.

 

_On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?_

 

Ryan tilts his head back, stretches out his throat so that Shane might continue to litter it with open mouthed kisses, hot and wet. Teeth sink into his throat, biting, bruising but neglecting to tear through it. It’s claiming and the skin aches when Shane pulls back to admire his handiwork, a proud and smug smile swamping his wolfish face.

 

_Yes_

 

“You sure about this?” Shane asks, his golden eyes soft and tender as his gaze sweeps across his face. His sharp teeth catch in the low light of the lamp on the hotel room night stand. Shane’s grin is sharp and terrifying but it somehow manages to seem monstrous and sweet at the same time.

“Yes. I want my giant fucking nerd monster of a boyfriend to fuck my brains out.” He laughs hand slapping against Shane’s bare back. A low rumble emanates deep in his chest and Ryan moans as he feels it vibrate against his skin, crying out as Shane sucks another bruise into the junction between his neck and shoulder, the barest scrape of teeth, teasing. He laughs, low and menacing as he pulls back, gold eyes shining in the dark.

 

_“I bet you to say that to all the boys.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you reading! You can also find me on tumblr [@mercury-skies](https://mercury-skies.tumblr.com/)!


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